Aut vincere, aut mori
by FrancescaBoscorelli
Summary: A woman desperately comes for the team's help, when they agree to take her case Eliot becomes supecious as to what secrets she's been hiding and how much trouble she will get them into. Parker/Eliot, slight hints of Hardison/OC.
1. Prologue

**Title**: Aut vincere, aut mori

**Pairing:** Hints (several) of Parker/Eliot, Hardison/OC

**Spoilers:** None

**Disclaimer**: A few characters of this fic belong to me, like the two men in this first chapter. Later on you will see another one who totally belongs to me; Jasmine.

**A/N**: Hello everyone, its me again hi! Okay so this story came up like this; someone sent me an prompt, this prompt was something like this _**"Eliot doesn't come back from a solo mission. They think he's dead. Parker deals... or doesn't deal... in her own Parker-y way. ;)**" _so this fic happened, but quite differently from that request. I turned this into a multi-chapter action-y drama-y fic. Not my first muli-chapter fic but indeed my first because I wrote this before my last one (which contained 5 chapters) Please let me know what you think, I will update as soon as possible.

Love,

Fran

* * *

When Eliot regained consciousness his whole body hurt. He couldn't move his arms, nor his legs, and he could tell from the stiffness of his back that he was sitting very firmly on a chair.

Silence surrounded him. The air was thick, the room dark and humid. He was probably in some sort of abandoned room, maybe even a house

He couldn't tell how long he had been there, locked and tied. All he could tell was that he was tired, sore and thirsty, not to mention completely and utterly confused.

The last few days were a blur. The last thing Eliot remembered was walking into his apartment in the middle of the night, or at least trying to, before someone hit him in the back of his head with something hard and heavy. Then everything turned black.

Now he was here. Where? He had no idea.

A light came on from some point in front of him, he closed his eyes momentarily from the shock and pain He could hear men chatting outside, and a constant yet familiar noise. He wasn't as far from the crowd as he thought he was because he could immediately distinguish male voices only. Now it was definitely not an abandoned house.

The light vanished as quickly as it appeared and he was surprised by a metal door closing behind whoever walked in.

A light bulb went on and Eliot noticed it came from above his head and the room suddenly lit, which helped take a mental note of the surroundings. His dark jeans were stained with blood, the walls were of a dark grey color, the floor was made of wood and had dark red-ish stain that closely resembled dry blood.

The man who had entered the room stood before him and grinned with disdain. He felt a sudden anger building inside of him. He remembered his face, the look of apathy in his eyes and the distinctive scar on his left cheek.

He had met that man before, when he made the worst decision of his life.

"Look who is awake," the man said in a distinctive hispanic accent. Eliot's eyes hurt from being in the dark for so long but still he tried to keep them open, not giving in his tiredness and soreness

"Who—who are you?" he asked, his voice raspy and dry from lack of water.

"Oh believe me, gringo, you don't want to know," the man responded.

The unidentified man walked a few steps away, took the time to light a cigarette, and paced around to stand behind him. Eliot tried not to show it but the nervousness was inevitable.

"What do you want?" Eliot asked. He couldn't see his face anymore but he could feel his presence and the smirk on the man's face. If he hadn't been firmly tied to his chair he would have erased it his fist.

"¿Qué es lo que quiero?" the man spoke in Spanish, almost growling by his ear. "Quiero a la mujer."

"You want what?" Eliot asked. He understood him perfectly well. All those years as a retrieval specialist took him all around the world, and forced him to learn different languages and now he could easily identify the man's distinctive spanish from probably Chile.

"Don't play stupid with me, boy," the man said, suddenly very close to his face he could feel his hot breath on his cheek. "You know who I'm talking about. Where is she?"

"I don't know what you're saying."

Instead of getting the answer or question he wanted, what Eliot received was a hard punch on his face that almost knocked him off the chair. The man grabbed him by his shoulders, forcing him to look at his face. Eliot's eyes were clouded from the pain he was holding back.

"You won't leave this place until you tell me where she is. Do you understand?"

"I don't know who she is!" Eliot snapped and received, yet again, another blow. He had been getting lots of them, apparently, from the blood he could still taste on his mouth.

The man breathed heavily and rubbed his temples in exasperation, dropping the rest of his cigarette to the floor, its light fading away. Eliot sensed another punch coming but instead he took his phone out of his pocket and dialed.

"Envíen a los muchachos," he spoke over the phone, hanging up quickly before he could get a reply. He directed his attention towards Eliot once more, who looked cool and composed, as if nothing were happening even though the man standing there looked like he had done this more than once. Someone else could be terrified but not Eliot, he had been through something like this several times before, he could handle more strikes.

Ten minutes later, three men walked into the room. All of them as big as gorillas, wearing black trousers and black shirts, they stood in front of him side by side. The man who had been questioning him before approached them but none of them took their eyes off Eliot.

"Quiero información," the man spoke to the gorilas. "Quiero saber dónde está la mujer y quiero saberlo ahora."

"¿No lo quiere muerto?" one of the guys spoke, receiving a slap in the back of his head from his boss.

"¿Que no me oíste?" the man said "Quiero a la mujer y este hombre sabe dónde encontrarla. No lo quiero muerto, golpéenlo hasta que hable."

"Are you sure?" another one spoke, almost disappointed he didn't want him dead.

"Yes, do whatever it takes" he responded, turned around to leave but changed his mind at the last minute. "Just don't cut any of his parts off…yet. I want him conscious."

"Si, señor," the men replied in unison.

He smiled at Eliot, buttoning his impeccable black jacket as he did so. He had that mocking smirk he had seen before, a triumphant smile that Eliot wished to wipe off as soon as possible.

The man left before Eliot received the first punch. And suddenly he wondered if some secrets were worth being kept.

**TBC**

* * *

a/n2; I'm gonna translate the Spanish phrases in case you don't speak spanish like I do: "Quiero informacion": I want information "Quiero saber dónde está la mujer y quiero saberlo ahora" I wanna know where the woman is and I wanna know now "¿No lo quiere muerto?" You don't want him dead? "Que no me oiste?" Didn't you hear me? "Quiero a la mujer y este hombre sabe dónde encontrarla. No lo quiero muerto, golpéenlo hasta que hable" I want that woman and this woman knows where to find her. I don't want him dead, beat him until he speaks"


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N**: Hello you guys, its me! yes, I know its been forever and I'm sorry I didn't update this before. I have no excuses other than life's a beyotch and I graduated and then got a job and ufff! STUFF. But here I am, updating and sending you love and thank yous for staying with me. I love you all forever and ever.

Now, don't forget to review!

Love,

Fran

* * *

The woman sat at a table in the partially crowded bar, looking around the room nervously, as if waiting for something to happen or someone to show up. She twisted the napkin on her hand, wiped the sweat off her palms on her jeans and then played with the empty glass of water on the table. If anyone were watching her right that moment, they would immediately tell she was internally freaking out, almost at the verge of running away and already regretting making the appointment in the first place.

She had to remind herself she could walk away if she wanted to, but she wouldn't, because she was desperately looking for help and she knew she wouldn't be able to find it anywhere else.

She looked behind her and saw two men sitting in a corner, both ready to strike if it became necessary. They weren't protecting her, no, they were following her like a shadow she hadn't requested and didn't want.

"Miss Morelli?" A man spoke in front of her, blue eyes sparkling with curiosity. "I'm Nate Ford."

"Oh, Mr Ford. Yes, hello" she responded, sighing with relief. The man standing next to him with long hair falling down his shoulders and a serious expression on his handsome face, greeted her with equal curiosity . She felt exposed behind those penetrating blue eyes full of mischievous gleam she had seen only a few times in her life. That man seemed to be reading every reaction, every sign and every breath she took.

"This is my associate," Nate spoke. He refrained from saying his name, which she reminded herself to look up later. "You said on the phone you needed our help."

"Yes, of course" she replied. "Well—this is hard, and a bit confusing. I wish I had another way to explain this thing without people thinking I've gone out of my mind…"

"Well, why don't you let us be the judge of that?" Nate said. She smiled gratefully. At least he was willing to listen, unlike others.

"A week ago I received an email with a file in it," she explained, "Something, at first I thought was just a mistake, that someone was confusing me with someone else, you know? But then two days later I received the exact same message. Curiosity got the best of me and I opened, downloaded the attached file and saved it for a later reading. That was the first mistake—"

She swallowed hard and closed her eyes momentarily. Nate could tell she was struggling to speak, almost shaking with every word that escaped her lips and he was tempted to offer her something strong to drink. He stopped himself when she grabbed a glass in front of her and took a long sip of the amber liquor.

"It's okay. Take your time," Nate told her.

"I'm sorry—this is really hard," she said, taking a long deep breath "After I downloaded those mails, I started feeling like I was being followed, like there was someone with me all the time. I felt being watched everywhere that I went and I just didn't have a moment of peace."

"What did the file contain?" Eliot asked. She was surprised by his words, since he had remained quiet for a long time just watching her. He still carried the serious expression on his face.

"I don't know, it was encrypted," She responded. "But I did save it"

"Did you talk to the police?" Nate asked.

"And tell them what? That someone sent me a file I couldn't understand and now there are people following me? Of course not. They would think I'm 's why I found you. I know you and your team help people like me Mr. Ford, people who are completely lost and helpless. I need your help. If I figure out what this file means,I can find out why am I being followed and especially by whom."

"Do you have it with you?" Eliot asked. She nodded and took a small flash drive out her brown bag.

"Would you help me?" she asked. Both men exchanged looks, neither of them replying and she felt once again a weight in stomach and tears slowly pricking at her eyes.

"I'll speak with my team and get back to you as soon as possible," Nate replied and she smiled briefly and reached out her hand to shake Nate's and later Eliot's.

"Thank you. I'm looking forward to your call," she said.

She stood up as both men did and walked towards the door, but not before glancing back at them. Nate was preoccupied with his phone, calling his team, while Eliot couldn't take his eyes off the Miss Morelli walking away from them.

He had a terrible feeling, like they were getting into something bad, and the fact that she had given little to no information about the case made him feel twice as bad.

He needed to figure out who she was, fast.

* * *

Nate's apartment.

1 hour later.

Nate had successfully reached out every single member of his team, even though they were all busy with the last few bits of their last con, still finishing a few touches to call it a successful job. Parker and Sophie were both dressed in very sophisticated gowns, with diamonds hanging from their ears and fancy shoes on their feet. All part of the con and being able to infiltrate a gala, neither of them was complaining at all.

Eliot, ever since walking into the room, didn't take his eyes off Parker and how the blue dress accentuated her curves. He couldn't help but notice how beautiful she looked and how his heart rate accelerated whenever she barely laid her eyes on him. It was unlike him, falling for someone he worked with, but at this point he had no control over his feelings no matter how hard it was.

"Alright, here's the deal," Nate spoke, "Miss Jasmine Morelli approached me this morning, requested our help to decipher an encrypted mail that was sent to her a week ago,which she thinks is the reason why she's being followed. Now, I've accepted this case even though it's not like our usual jobs, we won't have to play parts or create a con, we only need to help her figure out why this is happening and what those files contain."

"Sounds easy," Sophie said.

"That's when I need your expertise," Nate spoke to Hardison. He handed the flash drive to Hardison, who examined it closely. "She said it's encrypted. I'm sure you'll able to figure what it contains."

"You bet," Hardison said.

"We also have to find out who's following her" Eliot interrupted, "Which leads me to one of many questions. Why her? Why, of all people in Boston, is she the one receiving this email?"

"Maybe, like she said, it was a mistake," Nate told him. The group just stared at him in silence. "Perhaps that email wasn't for her in the first place, and now whoever sent it is trying to get rid of her."

"Or maybe she's lying," Eliot stated. Nate had sensed Eliot's ambivalence from the minute they'd spoken to Jasmine. Eliot had remained in silence, just observing her every move and word, which was strange since he was usually outspoken whenever they had a new con.

"What are you talking about?"

"Besides her name, what else did she tell us?" Eliot asked. "Nothing. Did she say why she kept a file she never understood in the first place? No. Or why didn't she speak to the police about it?"

"Why don't you give her the benefit of the doubt?" Nate asked "She's a woman who is scared for her life, who did nothing but shake while she spoke to us, who is so desperate that she had to contact con artists to solve her problem."

"What if she's keeping things from us?" Eliot asked. "This could only mean trouble. Cause there's gotta be more than just a damn file, right? Shouldn't we know more?"

"Well, if you're so worried about this, why don't you reunite with her tomorrow and ask all the questions you want?" Nate told him."If she's got nothing to hide, then we take the job, if she's lying,we drop it. What do you say?"

"It's a deal."

**TBC**

**the plot thickens! or not. **


	3. Chapter 2

**A/N: thank you for reading and reviewing! I adore you a lot.**

**Chapter II **

When Eliot said he had doubts,Hardison never thought it would come to this; tracking down a woman who he didn't know and had barely heard from. But his friend seemed worried and desperate and ready to punch him in the face if he dared to say 'I won't do that'. What surprised him the most was the results, though. Results, as in more than one, as in that woman was hiding more things than they thought.

Eliot was right and he was damn proud of it. And also a bit angry. Well, no, scratch that, he was furious.

"What do you mean three?" Eliot asked Hardison. Hardison turned around to face him, arms across his chest defensively, annoyed expression on his face.

"I mean three names, same face," Hardison explained."Either you got the name wrong or this woman has some explaining to do."

Eliot looked at the screen before him and read the names one, two, three times. The face was the same: long brown hair, hazel eyes, freckles. It was her, Jasmine Morelli, though she also went by other names she had apparently failed to mention. Nor did she mention the long record she had with the FBI and the CIA, to name a few, or that she was wanted in almost every single country in North America.

She had some interesting things to say and Eliot couldn't wait to speak to her.

"Don't tell Nate about this" Eliot commanded, Hardison frowned, he thought about complaining. "I'm gonna speak with her first and then we tell Nate."

"You're not gonna, you know? Hurt her, are you?" Hardison asked.

"No," Eliot replied quickly. "Not until I figure out what she wants."

* * *

Jasmine looked at her surroundings was hundred percent sure she had a goofy smile too, but she didn't care. An hour ago she had received a phone call from Nate Ford's associate telling her they had accepted her case. She was more than grateful.

She had run an investigation on her own too, about Nate and his associate, who to her surprise had more story that she could imagine. He looked tough and strong, the first time they met, but she never pictured him as the type of guy who would do all the things he did. But she was now more than certain she had come to the right people.

Now the man, currently identified as Eliot Spencer, former retrieval specialist (or was he still?), approached her and she was sure he didn't look exactly pleased to see her.

"Mr. Spencer." Jasmine said, greeting him. Eliot glared at her, taking a seat in front of her. "I'm so glad you agreed to help me. You have no idea how much it means to me."

"How do you know my name?" Eliot questioned her, a frown adorning his handsome face. She had spoken too much. Sitting upright on her chair, she grinned innocently.

"Your friend told me. Mr Ford? Yes. He told me your name when we met." Jasmine lied, but he obviously didn't buy it, not even for a second. Not even with the smile she was still giving him.

"How about you cut the crap and tell me the truth, Jasmine," he demanded. "Or should I call you Malory? Or Rosie? Which one do you like best?"

She was taken aback by all the information he had on her. Revealing her real name was another rookie mistake. No one even called her Malory anymore, that much was true. Now there was no way to take that back,not unless she killed him. But not now, she could do it when she got what she needed.

"Alright, you got me," Jasmine replied. Her innocent, scared demeanor vanished completely and was quickly replaced by a confident one. She pushed her long brown hair over her shoulder and pulled her chair a little bit closer to the table, leaning in to speak softly so no one around could hear her. "You know? I carry a gun with me everywhere I go and I can shoot you right here, right now. No one would notice."

"Of course, because it wouldn't be messy, bloody, and loud, right?" Eliot spoke ironically. "Unless you want all that attention drawn to you. And since you apparently have done your research on me, you will know that I have more than one way to disarm you. One a little bit more painful than the other"

Mr. Spencer knew what he was doing for was somehow a worthy opponent, someone whom, in another time and place, Jasmine would have happily fought with.

"Fair enough, Eliot" Jasmine said. "I can call you Eliot, right?"

"You can call me whatever you want, as long as you tell me the truth about who you are and what you want," Eliot said. "Because if you don't, I'll walk away with everything I've got, which is a lot. Violet."

She sighed heavily. That was something she definitely didn't want to share, nor did she think anyone outside of her small circle of acquaintances knew. Mr. Ford's team were certainly good at what they did. Violet was a part of her she tried to hide from the rest of the world, for several good reasons, not that she was ashamed of her. No. Being Violet made her feel strong, confident. It had saved her from the men's world she had gotten herself into. The fact was, being her wasn't something easy to explain.

"I'm not saying anything here." Jasmine spoke, glancing briefly behind her at the two tall, muscular men sitting in the corner. "Because if you haven't noticed, I have a tail."

Eliot imitated her movements, following her line of sight. The two guys looked away quickly, noticing how they had been discovered, but Eliot had enough time to memorize their faces in case they met again. One of them had a nasty scar across his left cheek, probably made with a knife or a broken bottle, and looked about 6 feet tall, with arms as big as tree trunks. Both were also wearing black combat boots, dark blue suits and black ties. With their rigid stance, short hair and dark look on their faces Eliot could tell they most likely worked for a cartel, or a gang. That was the only thing Eliot needed to know they weren't exactly friendly.

"Let's go to Nate's apartment," Eliot told her, both getting up from their chairs and starting to walk out of the bar.

Before they made another move, she stopped on her tracks, grabbing his arms and forcing him to turn around.

"Do you have a back door we could use?" She asked.

"A back door?"

"For our little friends here. Unless you want us to be followed and be dead by morning?" Jasmine asked. If they were going to help her, the least she could do was provide a little security, at least as much as she could. It was more than enough that her shadows already knew their faces.

The men were up when they were, ready to move and walk along with them, but just when the men were about to reached them, they were stopped by the growing crowd,and Eliot and Jasmine were able to lose them quickly, much to Jasmine's relief.

**TBC**


End file.
